Venal Diluvium
by OblivionDragon
Summary: D takes a job in The Forgotten Territories. He finds himself in a toxic, decaying city full of people emptied of hope. Can he live up to the expectations of his Dhampir employer, and what is the nature of the man in the mask...? permanent hiatus


Venal Diluvium

The horse strode evenly down the cracked, worn, and hastily patched road, perhaps still thankful that it had some kind of reprieve from the unsuitable tracks of its usual travels. Its mechanical joints hinged in a silent, rhythmic walk as it responded to its riders commands without complaint, trusting its master even in the diminished visibility of the hazy dusk. The dark rider seemed lost in thought as he directed his mount towards his destination with unusual confidence and more unusual intuition. They had reached a simple, wordless harmony, each knowing his own, quiet place in the other's-

"Are we _there _yet?"

The horse snorted in distaste at the rude interruption, by now accustomed to, if not to terms with the obnoxious, grating voice that emanated from the rider's hand.

"No."

"How about now?"

"No."

"How about-"

"If you ask again, I will cut you off."

"Oh come on. Losing a hand is _not_ better than engaging in conversation once in a while."

"You can converse with the bed roll in the saddlebag."

"Was that some sick attempt at a joke from the righteous Hunter D? I approve! Though, knowing you, you'd probably do it too…" The parasite sighed disparately, or it might have been a yawn, then it took in the changing surroundings. "Is that the city over there? Miserable stuff, this mist."

"Yes."

"Hmmm, must have been out longer than I thought, then again your travel time is always skewed from the norm. So, any bets on what the deal is? Damsel in distress, kidnapped kids, or just the usual hunting business? Maybe some freaky-weird experiments on the side?"

"I don't know yet."

"YOU DON'T KNOW? YOU DRAGGED ME ALL THE WAY OUT INTO THE FORGOTTEN TERRITORIES, AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOUR CONTRACT ENTAILS?"

The rider shrugged, but refused to give further comment. The irate carbuncle grumbled irritably about his lot in life.

Soon the gate loomed imposingly over the horse and rider. Its steel surface was corroded to a deep red by the elements and pocked with the scars of many assaults. The seam across the middle was no longer airtight enough to keep out the poisonous fogs that pervaded the area. The lower half appeared to have stuck on one side, letting the well-concealed machinery grind the gate into a crooked grin.

How many years had passed to promote such decay? What awful phenomenon could have cracked the city's dome so thoroughly that one could not see through it from the ground even if the sky were clear? Broad metal patches were welded onto the formerly majestic structure like splotches of dried blood, the art of making thousand-square-metre panels of precisely curved neo-clarium lost to the ages. One damaged section was so large that it actually created a significant flat spot in the city-sized hemisphere, and had to be covered by an impressive patchwork of metal.

D's horse stopped before the decrepit maw without any detectable signal. Nothing stirred for five, ten, twenty minutes. Then a vid screen, obviously too small for its fittings, flickered to life. After no few moments of static, the grainy, flickering image of a wrinkled old woman appeared on the screen, and an altogether flat and badly transmitted voice addressed the traveler.

"State your name and business."

"I am D, the Hunter."

The screen hissed and blinked angrily.

"Very well. Enter."

The huge maw groaned to life, causing the horse to stir uncomfortably. The listing side of the lower panel screeched like a bog banshee, but the rider expressed none of the pain that his subtly pointed ears must have felt. The gate's motors moaned and growled and creaked angrily, but half of the lower panel refused to sink into its temporary grave. Nevertheless, the horse hopped lightly over it, not bothering to step around the awkward, two-foot-wide ridge of rusty metal.

The rider absorbed his surroundings with an appraising eye. The harsh conditions of the region had taken its toll on the dome city since his last visit. The buildings inside showed signs of discolouration and corrosion like the gate and red dust covered the ground, forming crusty, toxic puddles where the dome leaked from above. Everything about this place- buildings, vehicles, and equipment- was worn, beaten, and either left to crumble or patched beyond recognition. One might wonder if the same would be true of the city's inhabitants.

"What a dump." The hand parasite commented.

The rider did not respond, but his opinions may have differed, somewhat. A careful eye such as a Hunter's might note that, while facing a serious decline, what wasn't abandoned was serviceable. The crooked gate, while marred and corroded to several inches less than its original width, was still two feet of solid steel, and it still functioned despite its best protests.

The vid screen, while colorless and staticky- no doubt due to a suffering and corroded receiver- had obviously succeeded a much more advanced communication panel that had inevitably succumbed to the harsh environment. Unlike its predecessor, the current one was disposable and made to be replaced as often as was necessary.

The street was bumpy, but though its edges stopped seeing repairs some time ago it was still wide enough for one large transport and had turnouts at appropriate intervals.

The tattered buildings toward the edge of the city were a total loss, previously stripped and marked with danger signs too faded to read. Only the city center proved capable of supporting a living population though only a glimpse of a human shape could be seen at any time, hurrying directly from one place to another like scarecrows in their worn environmental suits.

D passed them heedlessly, crossing a wide swath of open space: a convex expanse of stone, metal, and concrete that wound its way through the city. It might once have been a river; crumbled stone forms marked the decaying corpses of once-majestic bridges. Even if it were, it was now one more casualty to the poisonous region, unceremoniously buried and entombed to prevent toxins from floating up from its sluggish mire.

If all the decay bothered the Hunter, it didn't show. He guided his horse to a rectangular slab of a building that had neither windows nor any aesthetic appeal. He quietly dismounted and led his horse through the steel doors that opened on his arrival and closed even as the beast's hindquarters passed through. They stood nonchalantly in the airlock as gases were filtred and exchanged to some ancient computer's satisfaction, and proceeded into the next chamber when the inner door opened.

A man of rather short stature as well as a nervous young girl were waiting on the other side. The former quickly bowed and took the horse's reins, leading it off to the left. The girl beckoned D to follow her and led him to the right, down four flights of stairs, along a considerable hallway, and to the door at the end, shyly gesturing that he should enter before scuttling off.

The hunter found himself in a rather formal office. The large stone desk to one side looked as though it had had the oxidation polished off of it a few hundred too many times, but it was still covered in sheets of plasti-vellum, and a comm. unit that had somehow survived looking fairly well cared-for. There were two high-backed chairs upholstered with plastic that attempted and failed to look like leather and were clearly coated in a sealant on a regular basis, accompanied by a low table that looked to be made of over-polished marble. Completely out of place stood a heavy-duty, environment-controlled display case filled with glittering chunks of gold and silver set with jewels. Most were damaged by the same foulness that permeated the rest of the city. One piece, which might have been a scepter or staff by the look of it, still gleamed admirably though it was severed a few inches below the head. A large, clear jewel glittered proudly there, badly fractured though it was.

Nearly unnoticed sat a small woman with short dark hair in one of the chairs. Upon closer scrutiny one might observe that she wasn't old as initially thought due to the vid screen at the gate. Her skin was not wrinkled. It was instead riddled as thoroughly with scars as the jewel in the case, and one of her eyes was clearly a feat of circuits and sensors. As she shifted to study her guest, her sleeves moved to reveal prosthetic wrists above the gloved hands folded in her lap. Noticing her high-collared shirt, the parasite muttered something about a damsel in distress and smirked, jeering D with his usual enthusiasm.

They regarded each other for a moment before she gestured for him to sit. As he did so she broke the silence.

"You're the Dhampir Hunter, D, correct?" Her voice was deep. Too deep for a woman; and it seemed altogether hollow and unfitting. More disturbing was how like Darth Vader this woman sounded.

Unheard by the woman, the parasite made some explicit comments cursing a vampire victim who summons a hunter and then uses a voice distorter. Pure insolence, he insisted before he was silenced by the fisting of D's left hand.

"Yes." The Hunter did not appear to be offended. Either he was too business-minded to care if his employer employed such a device, or he perceived something the parasite did not.

"Good. Before you accept-" She paused, looking somewhat surprised and then grim. "My apologies." Her hand went to her neck, pulling down her collar and fiddling with something at her throat, which seemed to be fitted with a metal and plastic casing. "I have a friend-" now her voice was high and sounded helium induced- "who cannot hear my own pitch-" better, but again too low- "and I never remember to turn-" now she sounded like a little girl- "the damn synthesizer up after he leaves." It seemed that she had the voice synthesizer, which the Hunter somehow distinguished from a standard alteration device, adjusted to her liking. It was much easier to listen to and at the correct pitch it sounded mostly like a normal voice talking over a decent comm. system.

A sardonic smirk crept across her features as she adjusted the collar of her shirt and spoke evenly. "I'm not from around here, but I got called in about twenty years ago on a job myself. The fog around here, the water too, even the earth is poisoned. It ruins people's eyes, their ears, lungs. Most can't talk after twelve, kids these days never even learn more than a few words. Nobody can smell or taste worth a damn from birth. Hell, I'm a dhampir like yourself and it's starting to affect me too." At that there might have been a modicum of surprise in the stoic soul that is D, but if there were he took it, like everything else, in stride.

"I'm a Hunter. Greater Dragons have always been my specialty, though Greater Dragon Hunters always end up hunting Lesser Dragons and other monsters as well. Unfortunately no one in this city could see well enough to identify the gigantic beast attacking and melting holes in their dome twenty years ago. Took a damn big chunk out of it too. Thought I would be hunting a dragon. I quickly realized I was up against a bloody Burningbird, maybe the last one. Tore out my throat, and shredded me pretty thoroughly besides, though I killed it in the end."

"My point is that while I've dealt with the Nobility before, all bets are off here. In this place a Dhampir's wounds don't heal right, took weeks to trade my gashes for these scars and I'm more nearly a vampire than a human when it comes to healing. Severed limbs won't even make a good doorjamb after the air gets into it. Your reputation has preceded you by centuries. I won't insult you by insinuating that you heal like an average Dhampir, but the Nobility abandoned this place because it did the same to them. That and the quality of their fare."

"I don't know why a vampire would bother coming to this gods-forsaken place, these people's blood is just as poisoned as the mists. But one has, and we can't find it. There have been thirteen victims in the past month; unusually many. I still don't think there are more than one, despite the strange number of victims. I would be very surprised if there are more than two, or if they weren't closely related. Also, they must be old to feed on that kind of filth. Maybe as old as me. Older, or desperate, if they're hiding in the Old Temzy River conduit, as is my fear. Maybe even as old as I suspect you are.

"That's most of what I and the people know of the situation. I called you here to find and destroy this Noble or Nobles if there are indeed more than one. Your fee is negotiable."

They stared at each other in silence for a while before D spoke. "You explain the effects of the fog before telling me your terms, and you still expect me to accept before you state your offer."

She smiled a little. "I don't expect anything. I don't deal dirty with other Hunters, as long as they show me the same courtesy, and I don't haggle. I can't have a Hunter backing out either, though you won't do that. I just want to know whether or not you would take the job knowing the considerable risk assuming my offer is fair. I have no intention of bribing you. I've known Hunters who want the figure first and the facts second. They don't last long."

D nodded. "I would accept, pending a proper contract."

"Excellent. My offer is this: Twenty million dalas for hunting and destroying the first Noble, and ten more for any additional Nobles, of course. Any within the fog zone is under your contract. Another ten million just for doing it in this little hell-hole. Five more if you can glean why they're bothering living and hunting here. So thirty million dalas, minimum. Probably thirty-five, and possibly forty-five or more. Your horse is fitted with an air filtration system?"

"Yes."

"It's going to fail. So are its joints and motors. If it does so before you finish, I will see that the city replaces it until you do. When you are done, I will supply you with a fresh horse. I fit them myself, when I'm not fitting myself," she brandished one prosthetic or partially prosthetic limb for effect. "Bred, born, and raised away from this miasma. You can pick it up in a city of your choice outside the fog zone. Room and board of course, as well as any other supplies or assistance you need. Is that acceptable?"

"Your offer is adequate. I have one question before I decide."

"Ask."

"You are not local to this place. You do not seem to like it. Why are you funding and hiring a Vampire Hunter yourself?"

She smirked. "I killed a phoenix to protect this place, a real live Burningbird. Cost me a lot too. Plus I have a loved one here. He may not see, hear, or speak with any kind of proficiency, but he's a stubborn ass when he wants to be." She chuckled, but sobered up a bit, "Besides, I'm the only Hunter they know and I can't deal with this properly. They're barely scraping a living out of this place, and they hardly have a birth rate to speak of. Now some damn crazy Noble is picking off their few healthy young people. Their hope. Their last Common near-fluent kid, though come to think of it she must have been twenty-five by now, was bitten last week. It's killing their will to fight this place. That's why I'm paying."

"I know the best Hunters, and know to send for a Dhampir over a human; the fumes sicken an outsider human inside two days. Comms between this city and the outside are a nightmare; they rely exclusively on text. I know their hand-language and I speak Common. I'm a Dhampir myself, and from the outside- which is the bigger stigma, actually. But they're used to me, and they believe I can protect them, and that's why I'm playing the middleman."

D looked at her thoughtfully and nodded. "Your terms and payment are fair. I accept."

"Excellent. Come, I'll give you the grand tour."


End file.
